God Damned Fearless Young People Scare the Hell out of Me

The trouble with young people today is that they have no fear of authority.

Back when I was a boy, young people lived in a constant state of terror. We were frightened of our parents, terrified of police, petrified of a vengeful God and lived with the ever-present dread that a misspelled word or wayward spit ball would incite the wrath of a strap-happy teacher.

It was a healthy fear, damn it.

Fear kept us in check and ensured that we damn well toed the line. It stopped us from questioning the actions of our leaders, forced us to respect the behavior of our clergy and kept us from engaging in foolhardy acts of criminal mischief.

In my day, if a boy even thought of pilfering a pack of Good’n’Plenty his knees would knock in anticipation of the beating he’d receive at the hands of the store keep, his father and anyone else within a 10 mile radius who had a free hand and a belt holding up their trousers.

A lad’s hands would tremble too violently to successfully negotiate a young gal’s brassiere – certain as we were that a moment’s pleasure today led to a fiery damnation and thorough pitchforking at the hands of Beelzebub’s imps tomorrow.

But these young people today feel free to commit any nefarious act they choose knowing full well that the worst they’ll receive is a gentle probing of their fragile psyche, some parental scapegoating and an increased popularity among the penny-ante thugs at their local high school.

They know it’s a damned crime for anyone to raise a hand to them, say a harsh word or even give them a sideways glance so they feel free to thumb their pierced noses at police, sass their elders, fornicate like crack-addled rabbits and generally behave as if they are above the law and immune from any form of recourse.

Fear of authority is the glue that binds decent folks together. And unless these damned young people wake up and smell the terror, America is destined to continue heading down a one way road to anarchy, mayhem, free thought and complete societal collapse.

And frankly, that scares the Hell out of me.

They have no fear of authority. That’s the trouble with young people today.

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Truer words were never spoken. I spent twelve years with the Sisters of Saint Mary and the Brothers of Saint Patrick. Somehow, I survived, but the white hair I carry today isn’t from old age; it’s from the fear of knuckles cracked by steel-rimmed rulers wielded by sadistic nuns, or the ever present mahogany paddle, with one inch holes drilled in it, swung by the Brothers, who were all boxing champions back in Ireland.

Show a punk one of those torture devices today, and they’ll laugh in your face, knowing that if you use it on them, the entire might of both the justice and social systems will descend on you with a vengeance known only to serial rapists and murderers.

Our best bet is to shoot them and hide the bodies, preferably in places less frequented by humans . . . or not 🙂

I was spared the Sisters but my teachers had no issue with meting out a little grade-school justice if a lad’s attention started to wander or you made a smart aleck remark. One of my instructors. Mr. Halloran, tended to favor the yard stick as his implement of choice.

Funny thing is he rarely had to use it. Every damned kid had heard the stories of his punishments – they were the stuff of school yard legend. All he had to do was cast an eye toward it and the students fell in line immediately.

I can’t imagine what it must be like to try and teach today. Having to negotiate, placate and all the while guarding yourself against potential lawsuit.

My parents weren’t my friends, they were my parents. If any of us kids stepped out of line, we knew what would be coming ( and I’m not meaning a whipping or anything of the sort). The fear was the thought of being yelled at and being a disappointment to our parents. Nowadays parents want to be their children’s friends. That’s where the problem starts.

You’re right, of course. My parents did dole out some fine beatings (the task usually fell to mother but both were more than able) but it didn’t happen often. When it did – I’d have to say we had it coming. But it wasn’t the threat of the melon baller, the lemon reamers or the whisk/roller combo that kept us in check as much as it was the fear of letting them down, being a disappointment and bringing shame to the family name.

I’ve always gone on the theory that feckless young people will be grateful to find the person that is willing to put the righteous fear into them, always provided it is indeed righteous. Nothing is sadder to me than to see a tweenager who’s paralyzed with fear that she won’t make whatever social A-list her God damned narcissus of a mom wants for her, and we get that sort of bullspit around here, being in the burbs of the nation’s capital and all. But fear that your ass will be removed from a tree by Public Works men with tosher’s grips, over a period of hours, if you floor the accelerator on Dad’s car while taking that last curve coming home from the beer party at your buddy’s place? Oh, if only that vivid and immediate fear could be socked into more of them. Authority doesn’t even have to be involved per se. Just a vividly impressed sense of cause and effect.

Ah the good old days when a rap around the legs with a wooden spoon was a sign of affection and the clip around the earhole reminded you how much your dad cared. You never see irate moms slapping the back of their kid’s legs in a supermarket anymore. It was an art form really, pull forward, slap, pull forward, slap. Good times.

The kids are getting away with too much, and it’s all because the random beatings have slowed from “non-stop” to “three strikes and you’re imprisoned.”

And everyone was free to do it. If your dad or mom or minority housekeeper happened to miss a chance to hand out a little corporal punishment, everyone from the butcher to the crossing guard was more than willing to give you a solid cuffing.

Now everything is considered abuse: spanking, slapping, cursing, threatening, leaving the kids on the side of the highway, cutting off texting privleges, leading with your helmet, telling them they’re adopted, high-sticking, boot camps, playing your old 78’s, drawing obscene messages on them when they’re asleep, sending them to the nearest convenience store for smokes, informing them that they seem to be headed down the employment path of being name-tagged for life, firing up Pitchfork or Metacritic on the internet machine to let them in on just how much of their chosen music sucks…

Those crossing guards are particularly fearsome. Those mini-stop signs they brandish carry a Hell of a whack.

And let’s not forget the other modern forms of abuse: using a bowl to cut their hair, having the Nanny attend parent-teacher night on your behalf, making them stand watch in the fields while the scarecrow is re-stuffed, forgetting their names, having them complete your tax return, asking them to mix you a drink, sending the drink back, leaving them in the car while you place a bet on an underrated pony and having them act as “food testers.”

I’ll got an old car battery, a set of rabbit ears and a skid of lumber in the garage. As soon as I find my Robertson screwdriver, that time machine is as good as built.

My oldest son tried to yell at me for mot buying him something at walmart one time. I got him in the car and was yelling at him and threatened the old back hand if he didn’t quit screaming. That little punk started to put the window down and was screaming that I was beating him right there by the enterance/exit of walmart. Little punk ended up with a bloody lip when I wacked him on the highway on the way home. I went to tap his lip but his mouth was open and he bit his lip as I wacked him. Served him right. Handed him the phone and dared him to call 911. Got my apology about 2 hrs later when he calmed down. You can’t touch your kids anymore. Plus…what is this “no child left behind” crap. If you flunk anything you still pass on to the next grade unless your parents agree to flunk you and the school board approves it.
Sorry Don…It irritates me that there is no fear in kids anymore. They think they own the world and that everyone owes them something just for being born.

The driving backhand is always tricky. My old dad was a master at it but even he had trouble making a good connection when flying down the highway with three lads jumping around in the backseat. Half the time he’d end up on the shoulder with one hand on the wheel and one hand flailing wildly around behind his head hopping to cuff one of us.

I remember reading somewhere about a school or school board that wasn’t issuing failing grades. Rather then “failing” kids were having their “success deferred.” Deferred until when I’m not entirely sure. Struck me as a somewhat moronic practice.

It’s despicable that you are priding yourself in giving your son a bloody lip. Quit referring to your son as a “little punk.” There are larger problems than the youth. The big issue is condoning abuse and bragging about it on the internet.

Back when I was a lass, my small town had a network of tattletales who ratted me out so fast my mom already had a willow switch in her hand by the time I got home. And they did it all without cell phones.

Now if you call a parent to inform them of their spawn’s misdeeds, they tell you to mind your own business and threaten to turn you in to the police for harassing little Johnny. Or if you tell an unattended 3 year old to stop whacking your fence with a stick, he tells you to “F*ck off”. Kids sure don’t run as fast as they used to, though.

Sounds like we grew up in the same town. Every parent in the neighborhood had their eye on you and were more than happy to call up your old mom and give her the play by play on your latest misdeeds. They’d even offer to help with the beating.

And I couldn’t agree more about the young ones today. I was scared of every adult on my street and would never have had the nerve to look at old man Jenkins let alone talk back to him. But these kids today, they way they stare at you…it’s damned infuriating. It’s like they are challenging you to question their behavior.

And that’s why they don’t run as fast as they used to. They don’t have to run. They can whack your fence, whiz on your rose bushes, curse you out and stroll home with not a care in the world.

I know that my dear old mother used to turn my ass into a red, welted mess with a wooden spoon if I erred in my young ways. Come to think of it, that’s probably why I now crave the attention that only a 300lb Mexican women wearing black latex and armed with a whip and a cattle prod can provide. Good times. And by good, I mean painful. But it keeps me in line!

By the way, I have to point out one thing. Crack addled rabbits don’t fornicate at all. I ran extensive research during my days at USC. It turns out their sex drive completely falls by the wayside in an attempt to find more crack. They will perform fellatio for a chance at another ‘crumb,’ but actual intercourse ceases completely.

Good thing it wasn’t a cheese grater your old mom was using or you might have ended up with a taste for large Dutch women with frilly aprons, ruddy cheeks and tazers.

And if it had been a nutcracker she beat you with…well, again, let’s just say you were fortunate she raised you the way she did.

Thanks for the correction on the crack addled rabbits. I admit that my research in this area was somewhat lax. Perhaps ecstasy-addled rabbits would have been a better choice. I understand the Yale work in this area is quite comprehensive.

Bring back the stocks, I say! I little bit of public humiliation wouldn’t harm them at all and would be an enviromentally friendly way of getting rid of rotten veg. Though looking at the haircuts they sport and the jeans hanging off their backsides, maybe it’s not possible to humiliate them anymore?

I suggested to a candidate for local office that he put a lid on all the dime store rhetoric he was spewing and run on a “Public Stocks” campaign. He just smiled thinly, looked at his watch and took off down the street. Too bad, I suspect it might have been a vote getter.

And for what it’s worth, in my view, it may not be possible to humiliate young people any further – but it’s always worth a try.

There you go painting with broad strokes again. My children are not at all like you describe. Let’s say they do something horrible like, not flushing the toilet. That is always going to be met with one shot from the Taser. If they didn’t flush poop, they get a second jolt.

Of course, a Taser alone isn’t going to work. You need some water boarding, loud Yanni music, cabbage stew, narcotics and, occasionally, outside help from the Scientologists. (Thank you Tom Cruise).

We can take the streets back but everyone must participate. Stop complaining and start Tasering. Do it for the children.

I appreciate the thought and am glad to see you take your role of father seriously – but I do need to have to caution against parents getting lazy in their administration of discipline.

Sure, a taser my seem like a fast and effective form of punishment but it really requires no effort, is largely impersonal and doesn’t necessarily teach the life lessons young people so desperately need. Using a belt or the blunt end of your pipe to administer discipline may take a little longer, and require a little more effort, but the personal touch always pays off in the end.

Fortunately, in your case, you balance your tasering with Yanni and cabbage soup so I have little doubt that you are getting through to your kids and that they’ll end up just fine.

You have no idea how grateful I am for this outstanding post. Let me explain.

When I was young, my Grandfather (the illustrious Arthur Shenkelman), used to sit me on his knee and tell me stories about the days when he’d try to “successfully negotiate my Granny’s brassiere”.

He talked about it so often, in fact, that I pretty much have every encounter memorized.

He went into great detail, making me visualize his trembling and over-eager hands, as they fumbled on the hooks of Granny’s well-built, lace-trimmed Marks & Spencer cone-bra. He said that sometimes it would take him so long to steady himself, that Granny would just push him off of her ample bosom and do it herself.

Ha! I could totally see her doing that, too. My Granny was definitely the aggressive-type.

Anyway, after that the conversation always got a little “weird”, so I never really understood what he was trying to get at. But thanks to you, I now realize that he was talking about how important it is to fear authority.

Thank-you Don. It’s because of you that the memory of my Grandfather lives on.

It’s very comforting to hear tale of an old man and his granddaughter spending quality time together and sharing family stories and memories.

Oral history was an important feature of my childhood too. My brothers and I spent countless hours sitting on the livingroom floor while my old grandpa, Angus, would revisit long-standing Mills-family squabbles, bitter divides and regale us with stories of his intense hatred of the British.

It was the kind of history you didn’t get in books. It was family history and it taught us a great deal about who we were, where we came from and who we were destined to be. It was also scarier than Hell.

The fact that teenagers are fearless means they’re more likely to do those idiotic “Extreme Sports”.

Doing 720-flips on the half-pipe with their snowboards. Riding roller skates down stair railings. Or playing Superman, while they fly through the air with their dirt-bikes without even touching the seat.

A good point. I see these damned kids on their skateboards doing all manner of insane stunts in the park near my house. Add the baggy pants and untied shoe laces to their mid-air shenanigans and I’m surprised I don’t hear ambulance sirens more often than I do.

Probably the way to prevent this impending societal collapse is for the American government to form a secret organization – with yourself at the head – whose job it would be to stalk these youngsters and whenever they catch them in one of those nefarious activities, to give them a sound ass – whipping. You could in fact take inspiration from one of your own superhero comics.

I think you’ve hit upon a fine idea (excuse the pun) but I’m not sure I’d be the best man for the job. I’d be happy to participate in the planning and strategic implementation but when it comes time for the ass-whipping I’d likely defer to someone with a stronger back.

I’ll kick things off (excuse the pun) by suggesting a title for the organization: The Secret Ass-whipping Seniors Society (SASS). I think it has a certain ring to it.

Let’s see. Various things my mother used to say to us when we were being particularly horrible included, “I will cut you up in little pieces, I will cut you up and make a stew” (sung to the tune of “allouette, gentil allouette”), I’m going to jump down your neck and teeter on your wishbone,” “Stop fighting and get in the car or I will leave you here” (which she did), or “If I have to stop this car you are all getting out and you can walk home.” (One time the walk was about 5 miles).

I think parental authority needs to be exercised or it becomes flabby and ineffective, like unused muscles will.

I pray to bring your attention to your “trembling handed young man” trying to negotiate a young lady’s brassiere. Do they wear them now? Aren’t you being rather over-confident in describing the young females of today as “Ladies?” Around here there are just as many tattooed and pierced female louts as there are male ones. And they display a similar lack of taste in their choice of clothing — “Just say no to crack” has an entirely different connotation after you have been to our local Walmart and McDonald’s.

Your mother sounds like a heck of a woman. I have to say that “I’m going to jump down your neck and teeter on your wishbone” is sheer parental poetry and gave me quite a chuckle. It reminds me of the kinds of things my old dad used to say to me and my brothers.

And I take your point about today’s “ladies.” I was, of course, referring to the old days in my post and share your assessment that there is no shortage of female “louts” lumbering around today.

You be good Junior, or I’ll whack you with a PSYCHIATRIST. In the end going to a shrink and talking about their “feelings” will be worse if they get put on “meds” and get a label for life when all they happened to be were rebellious kids.

I agree that psychiatry and medications aren’t the answer either. While they have their place, they are no substitute for decent parenting and appropriate discipline. Unfortunately, in my estimation, both seem to be used that way far too often.

I remember last Thanksgiving, my mother, my brother, and I all drove up to Michigan to celebrate it with a friend of the familys’. Her daughter has a good arm do to her softball pitching, and got the idea that it would be fun to whip a piece of ice at my younger brother. Too bad for him, it hit him in the shoulder. All I remember after that is him yelling, “AHHHH! I HATE YOU, YOU B. . . .”, my mother shouting, “EXCUSE ME?!” and him coming out of the bedroom later with a bloody lip.

Another incident is recent, where he had a little “carpet episode” . . . you can probably guess what he did. Luckily, I wasn’t home to view it, but I know for a fact he got a wooden spoon, a slap in the mouth, a grounding, and a whip with my older brother’s studded belt for trying to lie about it. He hasn’t done anything since. After hearing what the kids at school do, I tried a little experiment. I didn’t put a few dishes away like I was supposed to, and my mother threatened the spoon on me. Like the kids at school, I said, “. . . What if I call child’s aid?” and she comes back with a smirk and the words, “Go ahead. But you and I both know it’s going to take them twenty-minutes to get here.” I quickly ran to the kitchen, put the dishes away, and even cleaned the dining room, which was my brother’s chore. The kids at school yell at the teachers and it scares me. It makes me wish that they would bring back the ruler. The only time I think it goes too far is when the parent actually beats the child to a bloody pulp (a friend of mine came to school with around 50 holes in her back from one of those spiky belts). I’m terrified to make my parents angry. They may be two completely different people, but they both have horrifying ways of punishment.

There is a fine line between discipline and abuse and I certainly don’t condone abuse. Whatever punishment my parents doled out was fair. Sometimes it hurt but it wasn’t the pain that deterred me from acting out again. It was the understanding that I had done wrong, that I had disappointed them and that my actions had repercussions. Unless there is lesson attached to discipline – it doesn’t hold much weight in my view.

Authority is even mocked these days as evidenced by Cartman’s You Will Respect My Authority in South Park.

It is pretty funny, though.

Teachers, Police, parents, grown adults… we have somehow lost the respect of children. We have allowed the power dynamic to shift.

I personally blame the following:
– banning spanking
– lawyers supporting children suing their parents
– new age parenting, where we try to reason with children (we are animals… have you ever seen a lion discuss the dangers of the tundra with her cubs? Or does she just growl at them when they venture too far?)
– allowing children to legally separate from their parents
– parents suing schools for nefarious reasons and undermining teachers
– feeding kids crappy food, far removed from nature, so they can’t concentrate or calm down
– rampant consumerism, where children are given far too much stuff – more than their parents have
– children in the US being allowed to drive at 16 but not taught how to drink responsibly till 21

These are just a few contributing factors.

I remember being on buses in London and actually being intimidated by children.

The only way to have authority these days is to win respect, whereas before these were two different things.

A fulsome comment and one that touches on a number of serious issues. Overall, I’d have to agree that we have lost control of the damned young people and that the reasons you cite are large contributors to that fact.

It’s a damned sad state of affairs when older folks can’t ride the bus without feeling intimidated by youngsters. Avoiding them is good strategy but unfortunately, they seem to be everywhere.

Mr. Mills, again another great post… I’m a believer that most things are cyclic… corporal punishment and spanking and such will come back into and be accepted by society once these peace loving half-wit people begin to realize that human children respond well to pain as a teaching tool… with moderation of course… people living without fear will abuse the system because they have nothing to fear… holy shit the things that I did when I was a kid in the 70s with the fear of the rod… Unfettered, I would have definitely ended up in prison… nothing was worse than when I was told to go and fetch my own switch from the nearest tree…reasonable and painful punishment for wrongdoings is a great teaching tool dammit… Worked for me… Would work well for many of the little un-respectful shithead punk kids I see running amok today… my 2… Spare the rod, spoil the child…

Well said. I have to admit that as I was writing the post I thought back to my own childhood and the monkey business my brothers and I got up to. And I came to the same conclusion you did…I can’t believe the things we did while knowing the punishments we might face. God knows what we would have done if there were no repercussions.

Overall, I think we pushed our luck when we felt it was worth the risk. But in addition to the fear of punishment, we’d also been taught right from wrong. And we knew enough to stop ourselves from going too far.

You make an excellent point. When the natural order of things gets turned on its nose all kinds of unforeseen consequences can arise. In my “Seniors Guide to Early Warning Signs of the Apocalypse” cats chasing dogs is identified as a sure fire indicator of the world’s imminent demise.

It’s instances like this that I can’t help think that vigilante justice is the way to go.

Think about it – a faceless enforcer who preys on todays teens by beating them to a pulp for even the slightest trespass. They can’t report a vigilante to the police or the social system, they can’t fight a person that they don’t know. Soon word gets around between the gossiping brats that ill-behaviour will be met with extreme justice – it’s only a matter of time before they start behaving themselves.

I’m going to learn Jujitsu, find myself a costume and start putting the fear of god into people.

Coincidence my wrinkled ass! You take away the strap and the next thing you know people are doing the Disco Duck and Kung Fu fighting. There’s no doubt in my mind that there is a significant connection between the two.

God damned right again, Don. My mother had an intelligence network on us to rival MI5 and she freely endorsed other parents’ right to discipline us if needed.

Sometimes I wish I had her wooden spoon handy (if not her ping-pong paddle or broad-backed hairbrush) to shorten my teen daughter’s sophisticated arguments against chores and homework, but alas, I lack my mother’s steely resolve. When she whacked us she was convicted of the rightness of her actions and the mildness of the pain inflicted, having herself been subjected to beatings with farm implements as a child. As far as she was concerned we were getting the equivalent of a good talking-to.

However, I chose not to spank my children because I thought hitting was unsophisticated and lazy. The silent threat of withdrawing love and approval takes much longer to cultivate and is more insidious. It’s worked most of the time, and I have two fine young adults to prove it, but BOY was it tempting to stop them short with a quick smack.

A fine description of your mother’s “intelligence network.” I remember thinking that my old mom was somehow clairvoyant. She never missed a beat and was always one step ahead of my brothers and me.

And I agree with you on the silent threat approach as well. Bottom line to me is that the young people need to know that there actions are being noticed and assessed by their parents. Sometimes a cold shoulder or disapproving glance had as much effect on me as a slotted spoon.

I believe the young folk today are probably more afraid of you then you to them. For one, the god dam smell of brill cream sends most young folks away….then the god damn mean ass look you give them when they are just trying to deliver the newspaper…so it broke your picture window once or twice…or how about the god damn abusive way you walk around the mall in the middle of the day muddling to yourself…believe me sir, young folk dont want no part of you….zman sends

Good to hear from you lad. I’d love to think that the damned young people were more scared of me but based on my experience don’t believe it to be true. (And incidentally, I’ve always found that the ladies are drawn to a man with a touch of the brylcreem. If you weren’t happily married, I’d suggest you give it a try.)

And I don’t scowl at the newspaper boy unless he’s late, poorly attired or negligent in his duty and leaves my Sunday funnies out in the rain. He may not appreciate it now but these are life lessons he’ll thank me for later.

Thanks for visiting, Zman. I’ll try to keep my midday muddling to a minimum in future.

Parents who have been traumatized against corporal punishment need only realize this: one 911 call by the smartelic can result in child protective services removing the delinquent from the home. Bummer.

P.S. I hope I didn’t create an influx of 911 calls, thus jamming the system with frantic callers (some of which are actual parents pretending to be their teenagers, begging for CPS).

I was wondering why all of the comments involved parents comparing various ways to beat their children, but then I noticed that all comments must be approved before submission. I will be pleasantly surprised if my comment is actually approved. It’s good to know that maybe there are some people like me who choose not to resort to barbaric and extreme methods of discipline. Hurting children is the lazy way out. It’s easier to instill fear in a child than it is to teach through peaceful and respectable means.

Hope that, if nothing else, I was able to pleasantly surprise you. I appreciate hearing your perspective and welcome your comment. (I’ve never actually deleted a comment because of the content so I suppose I should turn that awaiting approval” function off.)

Rachel, honey, did you accidentally expel your sense of irony along with your firstborn?

This faux nostalgia for corporal punishment is our way of coping with the rampant drugs, sex, consumerism and Republican haircuts tempting our children to the dark side. But you’ll always find a core of truth in Mr. Mills’ well-crafted blog. And you’ll also find a gracious host in him, as evidenced by his complete lack of censorship and responses to EVERY SINGLE comment.

I suppose I fall into this catigory, being one who had my own moral code which is a combination of the Wiccan Rede, Chivalry and the Code of Bushido. I do not refrain from stealing because it is illegla, but because it volaites my code of honor.

That said so many people lack honor these days, it is sickening. Once when a boy groped me kicked him switfly in the testicals then dragged him out for a duel in school yard between classes. He never bothered me again. In fact when I walked in the room he cringed.

I think people would stay inline more if we relegalized duels. I’ll have my sword ready incase that happens.

Good to hear from you again lad? I have to commend you, Frosty, on your effort to limit your profanity and your partial use of punctuation. I appreciate the effort, son, and know it may be a challenge.

You may be right about the damned young people. Why you, just as an example, don’t embody any of the traits that I have trouble with. Sure, you’re a little loose with the f word and perhaps a tad a little disrespectful but you obviously have deeply held beliefs, a love of winter and a keen mind.

These are all qualities that will serve you well, Frosty. I hadn’t considered taking the blog down before but if you really believe that I may have made a mistake and (God forbid) am making generalizations about young people – well then I will have to give this some serious thought.

Try to keep the potty mouth under control son. No one likes a swearing snowman.

I can tell you that here in London the fearless youth are alive and well. Generally I’m not intimidated by kids on the bus, but I know many people can be. I recall a childhood where my mum was the first resort when it came to discipline. She had distilled it to a look or tone of voice and that was enough for us to knuckle down and behave. Believe me, my dad was practically redundant as the last resort. But if he was called in, you knew you were in very big trouble. Because my parents are ‘old school,’ I do worry for them sometimes, particularly my dad as he takes no prisoners and he’ll probably end up in jail, or hospital, whichever comes first.

You don’t need to beat a child within an inch of its life, but if the various authorities insist on setting up laws that throw away communal boundaries by giving all rights to children without the responsibility that goes with it, then they shouldn’t be scratching their heads when the youth detention numbers go up.

I spent the past four years teaching at an all boys’ high school. I enjoyed the job but I will say I entered into it naively thinking that the boys would be relatively well behaved. Good Lord. I was shocked by some of the kids’ rudeness, arrogance, dishonesty, and sheer glee they showed knowing they could get away with a great deal.

This is so true.. I was spanked when I was little. My mom was a single mom in the military and we lived in Germany before I started school in the US. Even in the 90’s my peers in public American school had no discipline and yelled or talked back to their parents. Let me raise my voice to my mom. Or answer with “WHAT?” instead of “Senora?” (M’am) She kept me on a short leash in high school. Even now she’ll give me the “look” and I know I have to take it down a notch. Maybe that’s why I ended up finishing my Masters at 24 with honors and not pregnant with three kids cruising the aisles of Wall mart. To each his own I guess. It’s just hard to find a partner these days with the same restraint, education, employment, credit rating, and morals. You stick out like a sore thumb in a place like Los Angeles, where young people consider having intercourse on the third date, “taking it slow”. If I wasn’t ethnic, I would have liked to have been born in the fifty. Well, sans the other issues women faced, but you know what I mean….

Are you completely mad?
yes i agree young people do go a little far sometimes but after reading some of your disgusting posts i am horrified. Saying young people need to be taken out of the gene pool. you do realize the fault lies with the parents and not the actual kids. i am a young person and many teens do not act in these manners your all old farts thinking of the crap old days.

You have been brought up in a sanitized pc world where teens are NEVER responsible for anything. These people are saying what many of their compadres believe but don’t give voice to. The fault lies with the parents? I suspect you are right but the last time I checked a person was still ultimately responsible for their own conduct. Oh…by the way: your poor use of punctuation is just reinforcing more negative stereotypes about lazy, ignorant teenagers but that is probably someone else’s fault.

I really enjoyed reading your post and all of the other comments following. Being that I’m 19 years old and was raised with a dad that wasn’t afraid to smack me back in line, despite all of the garbage that society has to say about punishing you’re kids, and not once did I question his logic. However, I don’t really agree with how some of the older folks really have a problem with us ”kids” doing things like skateboarding or having crazy hair. The hair is a form of self expression, which there really isn’t anything wrong with in my eyes, because hair has nothing to do with what you’re grades are in school or what your career plans are. And skateboarding is just as much of a sport to some kids as baseball was back in your day. So please enlighten me, and explain why it is that older folks have to judge everything we younger people do. Even when most of what we do, has absolutely no effect on you at all. It sickens me that just because of age, people put themselves above others, I pay just as much in taxes as everyone your age does, and I work 40 hours a week living on my own, and in school. What bothers me is how much you like to talk about beating kids, which is making me question you’re morals. Because reading comments about things like having a problem with ”free thinking” and how people should ”Taser” their kids. What the fuck is this, concentration camp? Tasers can indeed kill people if used improperly. And back in your day, whenever that was, I would have probably shot myself, because of how you judge people for thinking for themselves. That is quite the twisted set of moral guidelines. And I’m probably one of the most conservative people my age, I didn’t vote for Obama, and I believe in the old fashion ways of raising kids. But quite the fair share of this is just going way to far.

You lived in fear that allowed those in power or authority to mold you the way they felt. I live in fear of a God or higher power and I live in fear of my parental figures. But fear of the government to me now is just a crock. I’m not gonna sit back in fear of those law makers that don’t care for anything but themselves.

Donald Mills… did you know that we can actually remotely shut off pacemakers nowadays? This generation is far more intelligent than you give them credit for, and when you are no longer self sufficient, you will wish that you weren’t such an asshole. I also bet you have already lost your license, your hearing, and eyesight to a degree, so I guess I understand why you feel so cynical. tick tick

I must admit I had my suspicions about those remote controls. Every time my neighbor uses his automatic garage door opener I experience atrial fibrillation and need to lie down for half an hour. It’s the damnedest thing. And rather frightening. I’ve taken to wearing a sweater vest made of aluminum foil in order to deter the effects. So far it seems to be working well and it’s rather fetching too.

As for my driver’s licence, eyesight and hearing – I’ve only lost the latter two. I find my driving has improved now that I know longer have to worry about visual distractions like mountains, lakes and stop signs.